The Prodigal Son
by Amhran na bhFiann
Summary: After a failed assassination attempt against the Governor's life, Five-0 must find the assassin before he comes back and finishes the job. However, things get complicated when Steve forms a relationship with the cold-blooded yet troubled killer.


**Summary:** After a failed assassination attempt on the Governor's life, Five-0 must find the assassin before he comes back and finishes the job. However, things get complicated when Steve forms a relationship with the cold-blooded yet troubled killer.

* * *

 **Chapter 1**

He let out a yawn as he stretched his arms across the king-sized mattress. His internal clock hadn't fully adjusted yet leaving him tired and wishing he could just stay in bed for the entire day. Glancing over at the clock on the nightstand, he saw it was already 7:23. He had been lying in bed, trying to find the motivation to leave his warm cocoon for the past twenty-three minutes.

He sighed and reluctantly got out of bed. Although he was in Hawaii, the cold air still hit him and he shivered at the chilly breeze. He walked over to the bathroom, turning on the faucet and splashed some water onto his face in an attempt to wake himself up. Grabbing the towel he had carelessly thrown onto the counter earlier, he dried off his face.

Feeling more awake and alert now, he walked out of the bathroom and quickly got dressed. Running a hand through his brown hair, he picked up the baseball cap he had left on the desk and pulled it down slightly so the brim could obscure his facial features while not drawing any unnecessary attention his way. Re-entering the bathroom, he examined himself in the mirror and noted the ambiguity of his appearance. If someone were to give his current description to the police, it would match half the people on the island.

As he left the bathroom, he glanced out the window to see two young children playing on the playground across the street. The younger of the two was on the swing set while the other was busy trying to climb up the slide only to slide back down in a fruitless attempt to make it up. Sitting across from them were their parents, laughing at their child's antics.

Sometimes, he found himself wondering what his life would have been like if he had grown up like those children; growing up with loving parents, a supportive household environment and the freedom to decide his future. It was his one dream, something that he prayed for every day. He always thought that if he wished for something enough that one day it would come true. But, so far, nothing had materialised.

Leaving the window, he faced the reality of his situation. Walking towards his bed, he reached underneath it to pull out his suitcase. Placing it onto the bed, he opened it up to reveal a locked metallic box inside. He took it out and unlocked it, revealing a pistol.

He picked it up and examined it. It would have been easier to take his target out perched on top of the building across the street with a single bullet through the head. Pick him off with his sniper rifle. It was so simple yet effective. However, it was also boring.

The contract specified who he was to kill. But, it did not specify how he had to carry out this task. He would take the liberties he wanted. All that mattered was he got the job done and didn't get caught in the process. That was what he was being paid to do. Nothing more, nothing less.

He wasn't nervous; this wouldn't be his first time killing. He remembered the first time he took someone's life like it was yesterday. It was five years ago and he had been a nervous wreck. His hands were shaking, his heart was pounding, he was sweating and was about to pass out. But, there was something about holding someone's life in his hands that gave him an addicting rush of adrenaline. He couldn't explain why it was so addicting, it just was. As a result, by his second contract, the nervousness that previously plagued him quickly dispelled and all he felt was that same addictive rush.

Realising he had to leave soon, he tucked his pistol into the holster inside the waistband. He looked at his reflection once more in the mirror. Satisfied with his appearance, he opened the door and left.

* * *

Steve McGarrett had to stifle back a yawn. He had not envisioned his Sunday morning standing behind Governor Samuel Denning, the Governor of Hawaii, while he addressed the crowd about some topic that Steve had absolutely no care about. Worse was the fact that he was here as his own personal bodyguard. However, he was provided some comfort that, as part of the stipulation, Danny also had to be here with him.

Scanning the crowd, he saw nothing that would raise an alarm. Closing his eyes, he rubbed his face in an attempt to keep himself on task. When he opened his eyes again, he scanned the crowd for what felt like the hundredth time. However, this time, his eyes focused in on a man wearing a dark blue baseball cap.

Something about him made Steve's sixth sense tingle. The man was slowly making his way through the crowd towards the Governor. He stopped when he was approximately fifty metres away. Steve saw him fumbling around in his pockets for something.

Steve watched in horror as the man pulled out a pistol and raised it straight at the Governor. Out of instinct, Steve yelled some kind of warning, but he was too focused on the unfolding crisis to recognise the words coming out of his mouth.

Suddenly, he heard the sound he had been dreading the most; the distinct sound of a gun going off. Another shot rang off. He ran towards the Governor, only to watch him fall down as blood began seeping through his chest.

"Governor," he said as he caught his fall. The Governor had been hit twice. One in the chest, the other in the shoulder.

"McGarrett…" he replied weakly, trying to grasp onto Steve but failing.

"Governor, you're going to be fine," he reassured, putting a hand on his uninjured shoulder. Turning around, so he wasn't facing the Denning, he yelled, "Someone call an ambulance!"

"Governor." Steve looked up and saw Danny running towards them.

"Danny, stay with Denning. I'm going after the shooter." Steve didn't bother to make sure Danny heard what he said. He stood up and surveyed the chaos around him. The crowd was screaming and had begun dispersing.

He quickly caught sight of the shooter. He was standing in the same spot as before, impervious to the surrounding chaos. Both men stood frozen in their stance, analysing the other. Steve couldn't get a good look at the gunman's face because of his ballcap but he could have sworn he saw a grin on the other man's face. However, before he could make out any distinctive facial features, the gunman turned around and bolted.

"Freeze! Five-0!" Steve shouted, running after the gunman.

The shooter pushed through the crowd and Steve struggled to keep track of the dark blue cap in the sea of other heads. Stumbling into a middle-aged woman, he pushed her aside as he looked for any sign of the perpetrator.

He caught a flash of movement from the corner of his eyes. Before he registered what he had just seen, his training kicked in and he was already running in the direction of the movement. Turning the corner, he spotted the gunman about half a block ahead of him.

"Five-0! Stop!" he yelled. It wasn't a surprise when he ignored his command again and continued to run. Steve cursed under his breath as he pushed himself to run faster. Although slowly, he was gaining ground.

The gunman rounded another corner, running into an alleyway. Steve couldn't help but smile when he recognised the alley as a dead end. He was cornered at last.

Steve ran into the alley and saw the gunman standing in the middle, his back towards him. "Five-0! Hands on your head and turn around," he yelled.

"Steven McGarrett." His voice was frighteningly calm and had no hint of fear or nervousness. "Head of Hawaii Five-0. Former Navy SEAL. And, from what I've heard, a damn good one as well," the gunman paused and chuckled at his own words. "Now tell me something McGarrett, how did it feel to hear your own father die?"

The question caught him off guard and he was glad the bastard couldn't see his shocked reaction. "Place your hands on your head and turn around slowly," he said, attempting to ignore the comment about his father.

Surprisingly he obeyed, this time, putting his hands up as he began turning around.

McGarrett caught his first glimpse of the shooter's face and was shocked at what he saw. Instead of the face of a hardened killer, he was staring into the face of a kid. He had to have been no older than eighteen. His eyes were cold and snake-like but at the same time, there was a sense of innocence attached to them. "You're just a kid…" he trailed as he subconsciously lowered his weapon due to the presence of the youngster.

Before he realised what he had done, the kid had slammed his shoulder into his chest. Dropping his weapon, he felt the wind rushing out of his lungs as he fell to the ground. Spotting his weapon a few feet away, he grabbed it and sprung to his feet. Looking around, the alley was empty. Running out onto the street, the kid was nowhere to be seen.

He was gone.


End file.
